For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Tell It to the (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write the poem. Possible titles include: “Tell It to the Hand,” “Tell It to the Judge,” “Tell It to the Six-Foot Bunny Rabbit,” and so on.

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Here’s my attempt at a Tell It to the Blank poem:

“Tell It to the Search Engine”

Prepare for the blood moon
7 dead babies found in home
Bear drags woman from garage
Hundreds fall ill on cruise ship
Weird new trend in plastic surgery
Naked exercise scandal
What ’80s really looked like
Bus crash kills 36 in Mexico
Gun kills people in Kansas City
Iceberg loose
Kid killed playing video game
Politicians track poll numbers
4 ways to cheat on sestinas
9 creatures that shouldn’t exist
DIY fashion ideas
When the world will end
Poll: Nobody cares anymore

Check out her collaboration, Music For Another Life, with Max Avi Kaplan (BlazeVOX Books) by clicking here.

Her awards include fellowships from Yaddo, the Helene Wurlitzer Foundation, and the Hawthornden Castle International Retreat for Writers, as well as grants from the Kittredge Fund and the Elizabeth George Foundation. She is currently working toward a Ph.D. in Poetics at S.U.N.Y.-Buffalo.

Poems, Prompts & Room to Add Your Own for the 2014 April PAD Challenge!

Words Dance Publishing is offering 20% off pre-orders for the Poem Your Heart Out anthology until May 1st! If you’d like to learn a bit more about our vision for the book, when it will be published, among other details.

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763 thoughts on “2014 April PAD Challenge: Day 24”

No time you say?
Step away from the computer
Slowly
Hands in the air
No time you say?
Turn off that TV
Find those shoes
No time you say?
Put down that phone
Put down that game
No time you say?
Stretch
Reach for your toes
No time you say?
Tell it to the undertaker

“The vanity of being known to be trusted with a secret is generally
one of the chief motives to disclose it.” Dr. Samuel Johnson

You exclaim,
saying, you could
not bear it
Not another day,
not another second
This knowledge
that you possess
Of all the
“listening in”
your government
was doing;
was capable
of doing.

Even though
when you
accepted
your position,
it was to help
effect this very
operation…
This “listening in”
as you call it now
When you signed
papers confirming
your knowledge
of the fact, and
your sworn affidavit
of confidentiality
when you joined
this department.

Now, it seems,
you are
suddenly rife
with pangs
of conscience,
worried that
personal emails
and other
private data
belonging
to the citizenry,
are ripe
for the picking…
And your moral
compass has sprung
to the fore.

You have slashed
all links
to everything
familiar…
Broken, not only the
rules of employment…
that would
be bad enough.

But – no, you
have taken
it more than
one giant step
further, and
broken the law
More than one law,
in fact
As you reveal
what your agency
is not only capable
of doing
But is actually
doing.

Do you whisper
this news
anonymously
into some
reporter’s ear?
No, you announce
it publically
in such a way
that necessitates
your fleeing
the country
of your birth
and citizenship;
and having to
seek asylum
in some
other country
A place
from which
you cannot
be extradited.

At what point,
we cannot
help wondering
Did you say
to yourself
Perhaps I should
have
just told this
to my priest?

Awaking from my nightmare
I scream
Then you rush in
And comfort me
Stroking my hair
You tell me not to worry
There’s no such thing as monsters
You say
Then you kiss my forehead
Turn off the light
And leave
There’s no such thing as monsters
I hear you murmur
As you walk away
But tell it to the rapist
Who sleeps in your bed

Your honor,
I plead insanity…
for the prompt
that strikes my muse.
But let’s be clear,
that I’m not confused.
I’m alert and oriented.
However, my lunacy
is quite evident;
in that
I blew
a fuse,
over
poetry.

Tell it to the brokenhearted girl.
Let your words spill out onto the pages
of the letters you will never send to her.
Turn your apologies into sonnets.
Compose songs dedicated to her
containing choruses of “I’m sorry” and
“I love you” and “I’ll never leave again.”

Crawl back to her on your knees.
Beg her and shower her with pleas.
Tell her how it wasn’t your fault.
Tell her how it was the biggest mistake
of your life, but it wasn’t your fault.
Try to pick her up from the floor and
stitch her back together with your lips.
That’s right, make yourself believe you
are the hero in her story.
Build yourself up after you
made her feel so small.

Tell it to the brokenhearted girl,
because I don’t believe a single word.

I grew up and dusted myself off
from your empty promises and lies.
I crawled back to myself, all cuts
and bruises, and held myself.
Maybe I should thank you,
but then again, you have no business
with my thanks. Because when I fell apart,
I put myself back together.

Tell it to the brokenhearted girl
before she becomes me, because
I won’t have a single word.

I sit at the computer
Key board shackled
Waiting the clock to click
Down.
I never used to be a
Clock
Watcher
Tell it by working to the bottom line
And no more.
No extra projects
Tell it by shutting down on the dot
No energy no pep
Just telling it…

Is what the oracle tells me true?
Have I always required an enemy? And, what mysterious
meaning lies hidden behind those words?
Who is my enemy? You, the reader?
Is it my daughter who wants to live away from me?
Her husband? Do I really believe he’s my adversary?

And what does having targets
for antagonism achieve? Can it change one thing?
Does it move me any closer to a goal? Will it save the whales?
Make happen in the world anything I’d like
to see take place? Why should I prize
being contrary? What does having grounds
for erratic action satisfy in me? Does it make me special?
Will it deflect criticism?
I tell you Oracle be straightforward for once—
Give me answers I can understand.

Tell it to the me who
Waits for no one
She took the bait
Now bears the consequence of haste
Your patience keeps
Our line bound and taut
Only to unravel
When the hook slips
And I drift along the wake
Into your arms and the line slacks
And the line tangles
And the net holds us closely
Drifting
Bobbing
Sinking
Deeper in love

Tell it to the Minstrel;
the Mouse,
who lives beneath
the Chapel
with his big
and oversized
ears, and though
hard of hearing,
he is a good listener,
and for a small block
of cheese will sing
you a jig – off tune.

I’ve been hangin’ out in this nest lettin’ mom and dad keep me fed and warm and just observing my siblings’ forms as they vacate this humble abode here in the porch eaves and watchin’ ‘em lunge and plunge testing out their wings and one thing i can tell you for sure is i’m not leaving till i’m sure i won’t do like the last guy and fly straight into the side of the garage then turn and bounce off the window and end up stunned on the ground wondering why the sky’s so hard, so if you have some advice then tell it to the other guy cuz that’s just words, and i’m gonna keep watching till i know i can soar.